Courage Is Facing Danger When You Are Afraid
by Objessions
Summary: Tag to Skull & Electromagnet Multi-chapter For fun
1. Chapter 1

When Bozer breezed back into the house, he was in full Director mode, ready to put the cast and crew to work. He wanted to bring the best game to the neighborhood haunted trick or treat challenge and was convinced that the rest of the team couldn't do it without his special effects skills.

And maybe, just maybe, he'd been laying it on a little thick, trying to get Mac out of his own head after the whole Murdoc thing. He expected Jack to take it more seriously, but it didn't seem like Jack was saying much. He was just being a way bigger goofball than usual.

In retrospect, Bozer realized that happened a lot after really tough missions. In fact, in the past, before he knew about their lives as spies, Jack being the class clown coincided with what he now knew had been either serious injuries or really bad times. And Jack was staying at their place a lot, more than he was going home actually. But Mac was definitely not sleeping well, having nightmares, maybe not eating great, Bozer thought.

Halloween was the perfect distraction. And instead of getting all cerebral and annoying about it, when Boze left to go shopping, Mac seemed to be getting into the spirit of things, making hydraulic controls for the skeleton special effect Riley was working on.

When the team dropped the lead singer to the literal Dead Presidents on him, Bozer lost his temper. As he stomped out of the room with Mac's laughter at his back, Bozer missed the glare Jack threw at him. Jack was thinking he was going to get Bozer on his own sometime today.

One of the people who lived in this house had been kidnapped and tortured by the bastard who borrowed that mask and if he needed to and, miraculously, could, laugh about anything related to it, the rest of them were damned well going to let him. If Bozer needed a friendly Jack reminder about that, so be it.

Besides, Bozer was the one who wouldn't throw the damned thing out. Served him right to get scared with it. Keeping that? That was vanity is what that was. Jack's Nana would give Bozer the world's longest lecture about the dangers of vanity. Maybe he ought to take him to Texas while she was still around to give it!

Fortunately, Bozer's mini overreaction didn't seem to put a damper on Mac's mood. He was still snickering to himself when Boze came back in and he gave his friend another playful eyebrow raise and a snort of renewed laughter.

Jack thought briefly that Bozer had no business in, well, in this business. Kid might be better off going back to the movies. Even that might be a little exciting for him, if Jack was honest. Writer's room. That was it. He could fix plot holes and yell at other writers, all from the safety of behind his laptop. Jack realized he was wiping fake dish soap blood all over his shirt. Damn it.

He grinned when he turned and realized Mac was very unnecessarily stabilizing the step ladder for Cage. In a pinch the kid would climb up the side of a building like Spiderman, but if you let him think about it, he didn't even care for looking out of office building windows. Jack was sort of pleased to see that Cage didn't seem to mark it though, or if she did, for a change she was keeping her yap shut about it, in favor of bragging about her Halloweening skills.

Jack would take that over the constant mental dissection she was prone to attempting with the team. He understood she was just trying to find her place, use her skillset to fit in socially as well as logistically, but it made everyone vaguely uncomfortable, especially Mac. And most especially after the little memory game they had played to get him to recall enough to find Murdoc's … lair, for lack of a better word.

Mac said he was okay with it, but he practically flinched every time she asked him a question the last week or so. And Cage, to her credit, was treading lighter. Jack was willing to let Cage have the heavy lifting Halloween-prep-wise, since he thought a holiday that involved people in masks, jumping out at you, might seem like good clean fun on the surface, but might or might not turn out to be that for Mac given everything he'd been through lately.

His dramatic choice of ring tone and his light unconcerned laughter when he and everyone else jumped about a foot when it went off was proof to Jack that Mac was not himself just yet and was going out of his way to cover it up. Another mission was not news Jack had been hoping for. But still, a chance for him to get his partner back into a normal routine might not be the worst thing in the world.

Jack was further pleased when Mac just slid into the passenger seat of Jack's car for the ride to Phoenix for the briefing, making it clear he wanted time alone. As they pulled out of the driveway, Jack was pretty sure Mac was going to unload something that was bothering him, based on his serious expression.

"What's up, bud?"

"Jack …" Mac began like he didn't really want to talk, but needed to, just the same.

"Whatever's on your mind, kid, you know I'm here for you," Jack offered.

Mac ran a hand over his face, then sort of turned to face Jack in the seat. "You and your cousin didn't really steal a dead body, did you?" he blurted.

Jack nearly howled with laughter. If he hadn't been driving, he would have doubled over. As it was he gave Mac a Halloween-worthy scare as he made a wide turn, trying to get his mirth back under control.

"Ah, hell Mac, I don't even have a cousin George. I was just trying to see if I could finally get one over on Cage … Ah, ah shit, that's, oh, oh, man, and I got you, too. Bwahahahah."

Mac swatted him on the arm. "It's not that funny, Jack,"

Jack started to taper off. "I don't know, man. Seems pretty funny to me. 'Specially you fallin' for it."

"I've met some of your relatives, Jackass. And I've seen some of the shit you've pulled," Mac chuckled in spite of himself.

"Ah, I can't wait to collect," Jack grinned, already counting his winnings in his head.

"You know, Boze leaked the bet to Cage, so in fairness you should be able to collect from her, too," Mac smirked.

"Hmmm. Announcing that little victory ought to be worth something." Jack thought for a minute. "You wanna tell her?"

Mac frowned at him. "Why would I? It was your bet."

Jack smiled. "Because I know you say you're okay … Now, hear me out … But, she got real close to some deep stuff while you were still a little looped after everything and … just doin' her job, blah blah, but a little tiny bit of payback never hurt nobody."

Mac grinned. "Nah. I'll let you have that one." He was a little thoughtful as they pulled into the parking garage. "I was thinking though … She knows something intensely personal about all of the rest of us, but we don't really know … I think we should get to know something that bothers her, irritates her, hell, maybe even scares her … That's a good one. Entirely in keeping with the spirit of the holiday."

Jack grinned back, nodding. "Yeah, okay. I'm in."

They started to climb out of the car. Mac turned and drummed his fingers on the top for a second. "Just so you know though, I'm not forgetting that you got me with your little I was a grave robber prank, too. I owe you. Big."

"So, Hollywood is back in town, huh?" Jack smirked. Mac's pranks back in the Army were legendary.

Mac's face split into an almost wicked grin. "Oh, Jack Wyatt Dalton, my sweet summer child. There were rules back on the Goat Farm, son. Welcome to Thunderdome."

"Well, shit," Jack mumbled as he followed Mac toward the entrance.

Then again, he thought to himself, no matter what Mac did in retaliation, at least he'd gotten one over on Cage.

Worth it!


	2. Chapter 2

Mac didn't know if Jack was really that afraid of the Bermuda Triangle or if he was just working a Jack Obtuse-Angle to get him distracted from his own emotional baggage which had felt particularly heavy of late. What he did know what that if he was, he wasn't going to let him get in his head about it before a mission. And honestly, distracting Jack worked for him too, since flying during a storm always made Mac feel a little like he wanted to dig a hole, climb in and pull it in on top of himself.

So, instead of playing into Jack's fears, or giving in to his own, Mac decided to pull Jack into a game of trying to push Cage into revealing hers. After running through the list of all the usual suspects, Mac was more irritated that she wouldn't even make eye contact than that she wouldn't admit to being afraid of something.

This was all just teasing, light, teammate stuff; the crap you did to function as a unit. He shook his head thinking, whoever she'd served with in SASR must've been a bunch of saints because anyone this entrenched in their own 'I'm above your nonsense' nonsense must've been a real delight to have around in a forward area.

Then he thought, somewhat irritably, that he probably wasn't being fair. He was just edgy from the flight. This didn't have the friendly luxurious feel of Phoenix's usual jet that could often make even him forget that he was forty thousand feet in the air. This was a tin can, no matter how shiny Phoenix tech had made it.

And frankly, the fact that he could hear the storm so loudly through the skin of the aircraft was making him fidgety as hell. The he cracked a smile when he saw Jack was as uncomfortable as he was. No, that wasn't accurate; Jack was more uncomfortable than he was.

In a plane. Jack loved these stupid things. And he spent half his time bragging about the godawful conditions he'd flown in back in his Army days. Maybe he wasn't just being a total drama queen about his Bermuda Triangle-phobia (which if questioned Mac would still insist probably wasn't a real phobia since there wasn't a name for it – not just that he didn't know the name, but he'd actually gone on the internet and looked after Jack's initial freak out).

The grinding of the plane's gears as it changed direction actually made Jack make a face that Mac would forever think of as Jack's 'about to be buried alive while being stabbed with a bunch of needles and covered in sewer rats' expression.

He couldn't help but throw Jack a sympathetic smile. Showing his fear this openly in front of Cage had to be galling. They were in an almost constant game of one-upmanship that went beyond the simple 'Go Team' teasing the rest of them all played at. Mac couldn't blame Jack, not really. Cage just seemed determined to always one better him. Then Mac reminded himself again that she was new, and he probably wasn't being fair because … Ugh, the plane made another weird grinding sound.

Fortunately, Boze and Riley distracted him by telling him he was right. He couldn't help it, he loved being right. Especially when he was right because of math. And even more so when the rest of the team had been skeptical because they seemed to view anything more complicated than the algebra none of the claimed any better than a C at in high school as something akin to witchcraft.

The story about the island and the base was a little disconcerting, but not nearly as disconcerting as the lurching the plane was doing as it started its descent toward whatever passed as a landing strip down there on Goat Island.

Instead of focusing on the less than pleasant pitching of the aircraft, Mac directed his attention at the beacon on Riley's screen representing the downed plane they'd been sent here to find. Jack's hand shot out and gripped the back of the seat.

Mac reached out and patted him on the shoulder lightly, dropping his hand back to his side before anyone else (meaning Cage) noticed. He saw Jack's eyes were drawn to the dotted red line the represented the triangle that was actually Phoenix's original search area, but which Jack took as a reminder of the so-called Devil's Triangle.

"Hey, I've got something better for you to focus on than that triangle, Jack."

"Oh, yeah?" Jack looked at his partner, his expression almost pleading as the plane lurched again.

Mac swallowed hard. Everything was fine, this was just a storm, they'd landed in hundreds of storms, deep breath, and … okay. "That little green beacon in the middle of it means a whole bunch of our guys are down there, Jack. No man behind, right?"

Jack gave him a small smile. The focusing question had been one of the things Jack had always excelled at as a leader back in the day. Panicking, hurt, inexperienced and taking fire for the first time, shit, whatever it was, there was usually something you could ask that would get the other guy's brain working under its own steam again. Well, if Mac wasn't going to pick of his fashion sense, at least he'd learned something else of value. "Right on, brother," Jack agreed. "Especially us."

Mac chuckled. "Yeah, especially us. And everyone else on our team."

Jack frowned at Cage, who was talking to Riley and seemed to be engaged in maybe telling her how to use something on her computer if Riley's dangerously spiked up eyebrow was any indication. Then he grinned a little, relaxing just a bit as the plane leveled off into a smoother landing pattern that Jack could sense as easily as a hunter might sense the shift in the breeze. "Everybody? Like even the really annoying part of it?"

Mac shook his head. "Yes, everybody. We're a team." He paused. "Thing is, I don't think Cage know it yet, knows she's part of the team, I mean. Maybe we just have to find other ways to show her."

"Seems to me like we been showin' her Mac."

Mac shrugged. "How long did it take you to get me to realize you meant it when you said I was one of yours?"

"Have you actually figured that out now?" Jack smirked, but it was affectionate.

"I didn't mean the you being determined to adopt me, Porkchop."

"Oh, no you do not get to start givin' me new nicknames because of the whole helicopter parent thing …"

"Are you sure? What if I went with Airwolf?"

"Well, now," Jack grinned. "That would be a horse of a different color."

Mac grinned again. "Nah, I like Porkchop."

"You are such a little shit. Hasn't changed since I was first tryin' to convince you team meant family, ya knucklehead. You see if I don't start tellin' everybody your middle name, you keep that nonsense up!"

Mac gave him a solid mock glare. But honestly his middle name certainly wasn't worse than Angus, and everyone knew that.

"So, we still gonna work on convincing the new guy? Might make her less of a pain in the ass." Mac shrugged with a grin.

"Alright, you're right." Jack nodded, his expression clearing for the first time in while as he focused on the green beacon on the screen. "Leave no man behind."

"Right on, Porkchop."

Jack punched him on the arm, not as lightly as he otherwise might have.


	3. Chapter 3

Mac would be the first to acknowledge that the island was a little creepy. Any place that's just abandoned has the same sort of tension to it; an empty but not empty feeling that made you feel like there were eyes on you, and breath almost on the back of your neck.

In this case is was almost certainly compounded by the fact that they might not be alone at all. There might be a fuselage full of bodies waiting for them. And if not that, there could be someone so dangerous that even Phoenix wasn't allowed to see their file.

However, Bozer and Jack were both being a little over the top. Jack was acting like they were being hunted down by every monster that had ever appeared on Supernatural, and that, like rank amateurs they had forgotten all the salt back at the car (he really was going to have to get Jack to stop watching stuff like that – Jack always said Mac had the most vivid imagination of anyone he'd ever known, but Mac thought maybe Jack didn't realize what he had between his own ears half the time).

And Bozer, whether he was genuinely nervous or doing it just to wind Jack up (sometimes Boze liked to tease Jack because it cracked him up the things that got under the big tough operator's skin), his movie voice over running commentary and Jack's reaction was starting to get on Mac's nerves.

Then there was the news that they had no way to contact Phoenix or scan the island; Mac was starting to get a bad feeling about this whole thing. Not like 'this is cursed' bad, but not great. Frustrated and edgy, Mac pushed ahead of the rest of the group. And found the crash site.

The lack of evidence of life (or death) was worse now that they had the plane in front of them. It was like someone had done some sort of creepy magic trick with the prisoner and the transport team and flight crew. Mac had the disconcerting feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop, a feeling that had become all too familiar since Murdoc and his hired muscle had grabbed him in his own home. Seemed he couldn't go get the mail without feeling like something was about to jump out at him like something from one of those crappy _Paranormal Activity_ movies.

Jack, Bozer, and Riley were having an equally frustrating time, and the quiet was making Jack edgier by the minute. Then when Bozer found the blood, all three of the players outside began to imagine some sort of supersoldier gone bad tearing up the island. Because it wasn't a little blood. It was a lot.

Then, Mac thought he had half a lead, thought maybe he'd found a clue. Turned out all he'd found was a trigger to a trap that nearly got him and Cage blown to pieces. The concussion of the blast was enough to rattle him, and he knew Cage was at least a little hurt from being thrown to the ground and blown up, but he knew better than to ask.

He felt badly about the naked fear on Jack's face when he pulled them free from their cover. His friend's concern made Mac's throat tighten with memories of the same expression after he'd gotten free from Murdoc. He covered his emotions with irritation at having almost missed the booby trap. Jack gave him a knowing look, but let it slide.

They didn't love the idea of splitting up the team at all, but it made sense to move tactical and support into the two separate objectives at Bozer's suggestion. Mac half smiled at he moved off to find the likeliest path, followed by Cage. He heard Jack offer Riley his backup piece; heard him tell her she was ready. That was Dalton code for 'I'm proud of you' if ever he heard it. And he'd heard it a lot. He smiled wider when she accepted.

Then he squinted at something on the horizon. That might have been movement. Then again, it might not. Either way, he had his bearings. "Jack!" he called, getting Cage's attention, too. "Let's go!"


	4. Chapter 4

They hadn't gotten very far up the trail when they came to a large semi-flat rock. Jack stopped, coming just short of blocking the path. "Hey, maybe you two ought to sit down a minute."

Mac thought he'd done a decent job of concealing how close he'd been to throwing up, or at least dropping back down onto the ground, when Jack had first pulled him to his feel after that blast. He'd heard Jack's panicked "Please don't be dead," and rather than even take a minute to assess whether or not he was injured, Mac's immediate impulse had been to reassure his partner after just how worried he'd been after everything that happened with Murdoc, not to mention his confession that he dreamed of something happening to Mac frequently enough that it interfered with his sleep.

So, either there were some holes in his acting skills or Jack was just that good at reading him. Instead of acknowledging that he'd maybe felt a little rough for a minute and then having to explain that he'd walked it off now, he just raised an eyebrow and went to step around his partner and gave him a sideways grin. "I thought you wanted to get off this island as fast as possible. Our ticket out is that way," he waved in the direction of the base.

Jack's brow furrowed with concern. "You guys just got blown up."

Mac shook his head and included Cage in his affectionate eyeroll, indicating that this was an old argument and one she should probably get used to. "No, Jack, we just avoided getting blown up. And we now know that Prisoner Zero is still alive."

Cage grinned. "Did you just Doctor Who reference this mission."

"Usually," Mac and Jack answered together, then both laughed.

Mac knew Cage watched Who and that was an open invitation to express incredulity that Jack did as well, to tease, like the rest of them did. It sailed straight over her head. Mac kept himself from rolling his eyes at Cage's inability to pick on these subtle signals. For an interrogator she sure as hell missed out on a lot of social cues. People said he was clueless, he almost shook his head. It made him feel fort of bad for her.

Then Mac just gave his partner a reassuring nod. "We're good, Jack. No need to, you know, get yourself out of pre-flight mode …"

Jack's eyes narrowed. At least Mac had left off Porkchop this time. "Cage was holding her shoulder when we got to you." His implication being that the blast was worse than Mac was letting on.

"Oh," she nodded, catching on to what had possible triggered Jack's concern, and glossing over Mac's implication that that was just who Jack was. She didn't want to point out that she'd probably hurt it a bit when Mac threw himself on top of her. She'd noticed Mac's instinct to protect everyone else at his own expense, but even more she'd noticed Jack's tendency to take that personally. He was making a real effort to make her feel like part of the team and she knew it. She didn't want to drive a wedge between them again. So, she brushed it off. "I rolled on it hard. Still bruised from when Murdoc …" She glanced at Mac. "Just still sore is all."

"Alright," Jack said dubiously, getting out of the way. Then they started up the trail again and Jack picked back up on his steady stream of horror movie tropes they needed to avoid. No longer annoyed, and feeling let off the hook, Mac just grinned.

0-0-0

Things were starting to look up when they got to the radio tower. Until they lost comms. Even Mac started to get fidgety at that. Jack noticed and started throwing out random movie facts that he knew weren't actually true. That drove Mac nuts.

As Jack anticipated, Mac started arguing with him. Then, before they could get too worried about anything else, they were talking to Commander Wheeler on the radio and Mac was leading them through the crumbling compound and they were learning all sorts of things none of them really wanted to know about the prisoner almost assuredly loose on the island with them.

The realization that that same prisoner had led them on a wild goose chase through the base caused all three operatives to share a look and know they were sharing a feeling; that top floor elevator drop moment, the one where you imagine the cable has been cut.

Another boobytrap. God. Freaking. Damnit. Last one nearly got Mac blown up. And Mac might not think he knew it, but Jack had seen how his partner had covered Cage up before pulling the door on top of them, making himself a shock absorber for the agent he was working with. He'd tried to do the same for others so many times Jack had lost count. And the kid wasn't going after this trap. Not a chance.

Jack realized his mistake even before the whatever appeared to be the floor gave out under him. Mac saw the look on Jack's face right before he fell, felt Jack grab the antenna and the device break, and was already diving to try to grab his partner before the floor completely collapsed, but he wasn't quite fast enough. Cage just barely stopped Mac from falling in after him and she had to physically haul him back from the edge to keep it from happening.

Cage didn't think Mac was aware of it, but he elbowed her pretty hard to get her to let go, barking an almost frantic, "Jack!" as he scrambled back to the edge of the hole. Jack groaned in response, but even above the blood pounding in his ears, Jack could hear Mac's voice shaking when he called down, "Jack, you okay?"

Jack did a quick self-assessment, and counted the roughly eight-inch high bricks that were stacked up making the wall he was closest to. "What do you think?" he answered, wanting to say something while he figured out if he could get his ass up off the floor. Realistically, he hadn't fallen all that far or that fast. Not that it didn't hurt like hell. But hurt was the operative word. He was hurt, not injured, as his once upon a time football coach used to like to say. Both to make himself and Mac feel better he joked, "Just fell about a thousand feet."

He couldn't see him, but he could hear Mac's smile as he answered, "Minus about nine hundred and eighty, but yeah."

Jesus, Jack thought, that poor kid is way more afraid of heights than he ever lets on. Math and estimating numbers were one of Mac's strongest skills, but by Jack's own brick counting calculations it was ten to twelve feet tops. Looking down from Mac's perspective though, it clearly looked a lot farther.

Jack was feeling pretty good about being able to get to his feet so quickly (given the age and mileage on the springs, so to speak) and was even happier that his flashlight was more or less working. Then he got straight up attacked by a damned training dummy. And he screamed like a ten year old at a haunted house party.

That scared the hell out of him. And Jack Dalton didn't like being scared. Not one damned bit. But he'd take on the whole Bermuda Triangle and every haunted house he'd ever heard of to make his partner take back what he said next. "I've got to go to the radio tower to get supplied."

Nope! No way. That was splitting up. Mac already promised they would not split up. And Mac going off on his own was what Jack had been worried about all along. Mac knew it to. But he wasn't about to acknowledge it. Not in front of Cage anyway. He wanted her to feel more like a member of the team. But even Bozer was frequently excluded from his and Jack's more personal talks.

Instead Mac tried to reassure his partner that he'd be careful in a sort of code. "We're all leaving here together I promise." He paused, making sure Jack took his meaning. "But for now I gotta go."

Jack didn't like it, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Refusing to look up and let Mac see the worry in his face, Jack just half mumbled, "Go on, but I guarantee you I'm the first one that gets it."

Mac heard him as he was headed away, and he knew the words for what they were just as surely as Jack did saying them.

Whistling in the dark.

Mac didn't think there was anyone better than Jack Dalton at just gutting it out and going on in the face of his own fear.

Mac didn't know that Jack was thinking the same thing about his young partner.


	5. Chapter 5

While Riley repaired their tech and teased Bozer into calming down so she didn't have to play cool and collected Mac to his overdramatic superstitious and paranoid Jack, Matty Webber had bigger fish to fry. It had been a while since she had put any of her real field skills to use, this seemed a worthy time to remind herself that she hadn't always been a paper pusher.

She'd felt more connected to her teams, especially MacGyvers Ops team, since the siege at Phoenix, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, a director who never went into the field wasn't worth much after all, injuries and recommendations from the higherups be damned. She also thought that there was something to be said for thinking outside the box and doing a little improvising.

Mac and Jack were terrible influences. They deserved a case of scotch. Well, Jack did. Matty had no idea what boy geniuses drank other than the occasional beer and she still had a hard time thinking he looked old enough. She had seen him order a dry martini a few times. But she thought maybe that was a tip of the hat to James Bond. Or based on how often he wound up blowing things up, maybe Stirling Archer.

Matty gave Bill her back, reminding him that he'd once misjudged her physical capabilities on a mission and wound up regretting it, and apologizing for weeks. If he thought he could get the drop on her now that she had aired her threat, it was the perfect time to remind him, he hadn't been better than her then, and he wasn't better now.

When she turned to offer him the drink she had poured as condescendingly as possible, his expression let her know she was walking away with all the intel she had asked for, and probably some she didn't.

0-0-0

Jack was already sore, tired, and on edge as he searched around the basement and tried to keep his worry about Mac at the back of his thoughts rather than raging at the forefront. So, he may or may not have gotten a little snotty with Cage and her bland platitudes from up there where there was some actual lights … and a known door … and definitely had already been cleared of anything too morbid and creepifying.

When he found the passageway behind the map, he wanted to be mad at her for the slight condescension he heard in her tone. But then he recognized it for what it was. She was mirroring his partner. Her tone, even her words, were so similar to things Mac said when he thought Jack was up in his own head.

He almost wanted to smile. Cage hadn't figured out how to be part of the team yet, but she clearly knew what worked on the team as it was. He had to respect that. And if anybody's words, anybody's tone would work on him, it would be Mac's.

Jack took a deep breath and started psyching himself up to go into that tunnel. It wasn't even the spooky base, or the killer on the loose that they didn't know anything about. It was the tunnel itself. A basement was bad enough, but a tunnel? God, Jack hated being underground. Hated it. Worse than anything. But he got on top of it and went in.

0-0-0

As so often happens, a lot of things started piling up at once. Jack explored the tunnel, tamping down on his panic, with varying degrees of success. Mac got back in touch with the rest of the team and had the disturbing thought that their description or Harper Hayes was distressingly reminiscent of Murdoc – cold-blooded, brilliant, and without an ideology – deal by dollar signs. Not to mention the subsequent intel that made her sound both more and less than human. Then the damp of the island started effecting Cage's flashlight, too, and the usually competent operator was distracted enough by it, without Jack's constant, reassuring, if slightly non-sensical, chatter to give context to the situation (something Mac had mentioned as a thing to consider when she'd complained about a few weeks ago) that she never saw Hayes coming until it was too late.

0-0-0

Mac was carrying half of the potentially useful supplies he'd found as he ran around the base. He had to acknowledge as they felt heavier and heavier that maybe that blast had rocked his world a little more than he'd let on.

Of course, that would also mean admitting that'd he'd lied to Medical about how great he felt when he was let back out in the field this week after the crap that went down with Murdoc, and so far he'd had to admit to being overly stubborn, to maybe having underplayed or underreported injuries in his career. But he'd never been caught in an outright lie and he didn't mean to start.

When neither Jack nor Cage was where he expected to find him, he began to recognize the cold fingers of panic, the icy thoughts that he'd been abandoned either on purpose or because people had been stolen from him, trace up his spine.

When Mac and Jack finally ran into each other, both were practically convinced the other was dead. And finding them alive was almost as startling as it was relieving. Without saying so though, both knew the fact that Cage's absence couldn't bode well for their new teammate.

For a guy who'd been nabbed by a sadistic psychopath himself not all that many days ago, by Jack's reckoning anyway, Jack thought Mac was doing pretty well thinking about the possibility of their teammate suffering a similar fate. Of course, having an invention to focus on helped.

Jack, on the other hand, found himself oddly upset over the prospect. It begged him a little bit. Hell, he wasn't even sure he really liked Cage yet, but he found it impossible to extract his feelings about Mac's situation from a few weeks ago from his current feelings. No one deserved someone to grab them, torture them, and kill them just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time, or almost worse, somebody wrote a check. Jack had taken life; dear God, he'd lost count of how many lives by the time he was Mac's age.

When he went to Confession on the occasions his conversations with his mom or Nana moved him to, it went a lot like "Bless me Father for I have sinned, it's been x number of missions since my last confession. I have killed a lot of people, Father, and I believe they were as bad as they come. I just need to know you and God believe it to."

When they found Cage, Mac's face bore the stamp of what he'd recent captivity had done to him, to his sleep, to his dreams, to his very conscious thoughts. And Cage, well hell, neither one of them had ever heard her sound more like just a person. More like just Sam.

Not some operative. Not somebody looking to get one over one them, or even prove something. Just a person. Not even because she was scared or in trouble. Both Mac and Jack hated the damsel in distress routine, regardless of the gender of the person attached to the "I'm helpless, please save me" message. But because, there was nothing between them and who she really was.

When Mac encouraged Jack to go after Hayes, Jack knew the reasons were two-fold. First, Cage needed Mac's innate inventiveness to get her out of this. Second, Jack was tactically better equipped to go after Cage. And Third, if there was no way to get Cage out, Mac wasn't going to let Jack take on those nightmares. Not after what Jack had already confessed about his dreams about Mac.

Jesus. He had been so sure he'd never see Mac again when they'd found the cold trail in that warehouse when they were looking for Mac. What if he never saw Cage again either? Sure, he barely knew her. Sure, she had a few years on Mac. And sure, she rubbed him the wrong way occasionally … okay, basically all the time, but it's not like he and Mac were anything other than the oddest of odd couples, right? Jack went to the glass to reassure her. The desperation in Cage's eyes told him, he'd done right. Both Jack and Cage took Mac's reassurance that they'd be right behind him to heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Jack felt like he was flying blind as he sprinted across the island, hoping he'd stumble onto something that would tip him to Hayes's location before she could get to Wheeler or the Phoenix aircraft. Riley's voice in his comm was like hearing an angel.

Getting pointed in the right direction to get ahold of their bad guy was like pennies from that same direction. Jack wanted this done and to get back to Mac, hopefully to find that he'd rescued their teammate, and to deal with the aftermath if he hadn't been able to.

Riley and Bozer were starting to feel at loose ends now that the job of getting the satellite link reestablished was done and they'd gotten back in contact with Jack. Still no signal from Mac though, So two-thirds of the active ops team were MIA as far as they knew. When they found the heat signature, both Riley and Bozer tried at first to explain it away, though they knew what it had to be. Neither one of them really wanted to head back out into the woods, but they still couldn't raise Mac or Cage on the comms and Jack was headed right for psycho ground zero. They just kept watching, hoping to figure it out, hoping to help Jack, and hoping that Mac or Cage would come back on line.

Still outside of the hyperbaric chamber (which Mac didn't believe for a second that Jack didn't know what it was for – half the time Mac swore Jack played dumb just to get him to start explaining things because he knew sorting through seemingly useless information in his head calmed him down when things got stressful), Mac was doing his best to be reassuring. He realized he kind of sucked at it. Cage was getting increasingly panicked, thrashing occasionally in the deepening water.

He flailed around for things to say that would be even vaguely comforting, but it was difficult to be comforting when all you were doing was basically saying, "Look you're about to die unless I can manage to pull some fantastic solution out of my ass, that even in the most ideal circumstances only has about a thirty percent chance of working, and since you don't even really know me, you've never seen it play it all that much, so explaining it isn't even going to give you any faith in it like it does for Jack. So, if you could maybe just not keep making me pretend I know how to make people feel better that would be great."

Then he heard her strangled almost whisper. "Drowning." Her brief, but honest admission of her made Mac's stomach clench in sympathy.

"I'm gonna get you out of there. I promise."

Fortunately, the bolt gun didn't kill Cage, although her look of relief when the water started flowing out of her little prison said she would have rather gone out that way than by the means Hayes devised for her.

After a moment of sagging against the cuffs, Cage braced her feet as best she could, so Mac could pick the locks to free her hands. She almost crumpled into the water, but Mac grabbed her by the arm and held her up until she had her feet under her again. "Alright," he began, handing her a knife he'd found on a nearby table so she could start working on the lock from the inside, and was about to explain that he needed to go after Jack, when his comm crackled.

"Mac? Mac, c'mon!"

"Yeah," he responded. Boze and Ri never quite adapted to radio lingo. He and Jack both thought it was kind of cute. "Jack's walked right into a trap. I think he's hit. I thought he fell at first, but heat signature only dropped a couple of feet and then …"

She was giving him more than he needed. "Where?"

"Headed toward the warehouse right by your location."

"Copy. Oscar Mike." He was already moving, and thinking he'd get them on board shortened radio speak eventually, if only through sheer stubbornness. "Cage, I'm gonna send them for you," he said over his shoulder as he exited. To her credit she only looked vaguely panicked to be left in a tank that was still largely full of water; at least her hands were free. He kept talking as he headed in the direction he knew Jack was. "Cage needs an assist …"

"Mac, we found another heat signature and it's big it's either a booby trap …"

"Or a bunch of people," Bozer interjected.

"Well, if it's the tac team, even if they're hurt, we could sure as hell use the back up," Mac said half to himself. "Get out there and go get 'em. I'll get to Jack. Then, somebody get down to the hyperbaric chamber in the infirmary and get Cage out."

"Copy," Riley answered, almost smirking. Damn, he and Jack were persistent with their military crap. Then she couldn't remember the thing she knew she was supposed to say next. "Moving out," she substituted.

Mac just answered, "Copy that," and she could hear him smiling. _Little shit_ , she heard in Jack's voice, and thought desperately that she hoped Jack was okay. She was vaguely reassured that his heat signature was still moving, but she'd heard him cry out very clearly over the comms. She hated it.

0-0-0

Jack was breathless and bleeding freely by the time he got into the relatively decent shelter of the warehouse … garage … repurposed hangar … whatever the hell it was. He hadn't fallen far, maybe six feet, onto a rocky outcrossing that sloped conveniently down onto the dirt path back toward the base, but it had still knocked the wind out of him, and he was already bruised all over from his earlier fall between floors. Besides, his shoulder currently had a mid-caliber bullet stuck in it and while he was pretty damned certain it had missed anything vital it hurt like his arm was being amputated from the inside.

He tried to lift it and felt his eyes water. Shit. Okay, Riley had him on the satellite. He'd heard her raise Mac on the comms. And he knew some backup was on its way, maybe in the form of Wheeler's team if Boze and Ri found them, but definitely from Phoenix now that the storm was passing. Keep the crazy bitch talking and try to get out of the building was his best bet. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Shock of golden hair ducking behind a giant spool of mental wire. Mac was with him. Okay, time to distract the bad guy so Mac could work his magic.

Jack started laying it on really thick. Then things got weird. And Jack became irrationally convinced for a minute that maybe that bullet wound had been worse than he thought and he was hallucinating, or maybe he was dead and this was what hell looked like if you went an kicked the bucket on a cursed island.

Mac walked out from his hiding place, clapping at Jack's reaction and laughing a little. Maybe that was mean considering his best friend had a bullet hole in him at the moment, but they'd both had a lot worse and the dead body Halloween story had been way too extra to not pay back. This felt like maybe it had done it.

Then he could see that Jack hadn't just been grazed like he thought, could see that he was sweating and pale. He helped him up, supporting him carefully. Jack leaned on him more heavily than he'd normally have allowed himself, even in much worse circumstances. Mac just gave him a big grin, the one that said, 'Hey buddy, everything's fine, don't you doubt it,' and asked lightly, "Are you crying?" in their usual teasing tone, but hoping it would get Jack to at least fill him in on how bad it was. Instead the answer was tight with pain, near tears, and obstinate denial. "Okay, let's get you some medical attention."

"Nah, man, I'll be fine. We brought a first aid kit, right?"

Mac shook his head. "You're about half past me and a first aid kit, buddy. Phoenix team'll be here in an hour or so. We're gonna get you comfortable and then they're gonna patch you up."

"You sure you couldn't just use magic like you did back there?" Jack almost smiled, finding that he needed to lean on Mac a little harder now that they were moving up hill.

"Never got my Hogwarts letter, pal. Sorry."

"Hey, Mac," Jack breathed, and they limped along more and more slowly.

"Yeah, Jack."

"I need to sit." And without further warning, Jack's legs went out from under him.

Mac went down with him, controlling the fall and getting them both safely to the ground. "Hey Riley, you copy?"

"Yeah, Mac. You guys okay?"

"Jack's seen better days. Can you get to our position with … I don't even care … a wheelbarrow … something?"

"One of us will be there as soon as we can."


	7. Chapter 7

By the time Riley got to Mac and Jack's location, she had taken her comm out of her ear. After a few minutes of woozy mumbling and sitting on the ground, Jack seemed to be more or less back to himself and determined to give Mac some grey hairs to match the ones Jack constantly blamed on Mac.

"Jack, just sit the hell down. You almost wiped out a few minutes ago." Mac was wearing an expression that looked totally exasperated, but even in the early dim greyness of sunrise, she could see the worry in his eyes.

"Nah, Mac, I'm fine now. Just needed a minute, is all."

"I'm guessing you don't need help moving him?" Riley asked, stepping close enough to Jack that he couldn't just start up the path on his own without knocking her over.

"Yes, I do!" Mac snapped before Jack could say anything else. "He almost passed out right before I called for help. He's fallen about thirty feet," Jack half smiled through the pain at how the number had grown. "Then he got shot, fell off a damn cliff, and ran about a mile and I'm pretty sure the bullet is still in there and he should stay still to keep cavitation to a minimum and …"

"Mac, I'm good, I already told ya, it mostly got my vest. It just hurts like hell. I'll let you guys help me up there, just you ain't pushin' me in some antique wheelchair. Curse that's on this place, you'd probably trip and fall and I'd roll right off that cliff you're so worried about. Which I didn't actually fall off of, by the way. I dropped a couple feet to keep Queen Coocoo for Cocoa Puffs from shootin' me again." Jack paused for a second. "Where's Bozer?" seemed like a good change-the-subject question.

"Working on getting Cage out of the hyperbaric chamber."

Jack sort of edged around Riley and slowly started up the hill. "She doin' okay?"

"Seemed like," Riley shrugged, falling into step beside him and getting an arm around his waist to steady him.

Mac huffed in frustration and started after them. If anyone could out stubborn him, it was Jack. "Did you bring the first aid kit, Ri?"

"It's in my bag," she answered, glancing back at him.

"Stop a minute so we can at least get a pressure bandage on that, Jack," Mac ordered, hoping the tone would trigger some sort of conditioned response and Jack would just do the good soldier thing and listen.

"Ah, Mac, it'll be good till it's light out." Jack just kept going. "It ain't hardly a mosquito bite."

Mac sighed again and got on Jack other side, convinced he was probably going to drop like a sack of crap again any minute and while Riley was strong, she was about half Jack's size, so she probably wouldn't be able to keep him standing on her own. "And I suppose I have to take your word for it since you won't even let me look. But if that bullet moves around and you wind up needing three surgeries to fix it, don't whine to me!"

"Buuuuut Maaaaaac," Jack said in his best whiny third grader voice, "Whining to you makes me feel better!"

Mac shook his head, but he couldn't help smiling. "Shut up, Jackass."

0-0-0

Mac stopped trying to get Jack to do anything about his shoulder by the time they got back up to the main base. He was in full manly stubborn dumbass mode, in Riley's words, and there was no way he was going to admit to so much as a twinge in front of Cage or Wheeler and his men. Riley was at least able to get Jack to sit.

He didn't seem to be bleeding much anymore anyway, which Mac took as a sign that maybe he'd overreacted earlier. Maybe it was just a graze or maybe it had caught the edge of his tactical vest. It wouldn't matter until they got on the plane for home or the man just passed out anyway. Jack made it very clear that he was done talking about it, and was doing his best to just hold it very still and Mac wasn't sure if it was to manage the pain or just so no one noticed it.

Mac was half amused and half infuriated that Jack was more concerned with making sure Wheeler put in a word with the Veep than sitting the hell down. He was about to follow his partner and maybe remind him that falling down in front of everyone was a real possibility and maybe just maybe they should just go get on the plane, when Cage stopped him.

"Thank you, for getting me out."

He appreciated Cage's need to acknowledge the rescue, but he didn't want to let Jack get very far on his own. Subtly reminding Cage that she wasn't his only teammate, he replied, "I'm just sorry we had to split up. It's always a sad day when Jack's right." He canted his head toward his partner so maybe she'd notice that he didn't look overly steady on his feet.

He moved to follow Jack and she stopped him again. He might not have minded some lighthearted comment. It might have been some indication that she was finally catching on to the team dynamic. That might have been worth the delay in catching up with Jack, because the man had just stumbled and had to lean on the jeep where Bozer and Riley were sitting and now he was trying to talk his way out of them being as concerned as Mac was.

Mac made up his mind that he didn't really care what Jack thought, a medic was having a look at his shoulder if he had to knock him out cold to make it happen. Jack didn't exactly have a glass jaw, but Mac knew he could ring his bell if he had to. He'd learned that the hard way in Afghanistan. And frankly it had been worth the payback it had earned him at the time.

Cage was struggling to maintain eye contact. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't share what I told you."

Wow, she really didn't get it. They might tease each other mercilessly, but this team didn't use weaknesses against each other. Hell, the teasing was just a tension breaker. Their job was pretty much all stress all the time. There was no way to fix this but by example he supposed. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm afraid of heights."

His casual admission did seem to make her feel better, although he got the distinct impression that she thought she had learned some deep dark secret of his and not something that the whole team knew and was regularly reminded of. He'd said in front of her and the whole team that scaling that casino was much worse than getting almost blown up.

But hey, she paid attention to what she wanted to and at the time Jack had been telling tales about their Army days which she seemed to think constituted fascinating information. A concussion induced nap had spared him the rest of the conversation, for which he was still pretty grateful. Jack liked to embellish his Army stories, at least the ones where Mac was involved.

As casually as he could, Mac edged into the conversation Bozer, Jack, and Riley were having, subtly encouraging them to move toward their exfil with body language he knew they'd pick up on. Then he saw something that made him feel at least a little hopeful. Cage was looking at Jack with genuine concern in her eyes, not just her usual, 'how can I put this guy at a disadvantage' competitive inspection.

When Riley texted Mac to set off his ring tone and they all jumped, Cage was the only one who didn't immediately laugh. She saw Jack flinch before he laughed and dropped back next to him. Satisfied that this was maybe the genuine friendship starter the two of them needed, Mac picked up his pace to match Riley and Bozer, hoping to get to the plane first and give one of the medics a heads up that they needed company on their flight home.

"Jack, you need a hand?" Cage asked tentatively.

"Nah, I'm good," Jack lied, unconvincingly even for him.

"Mmm," she replied, stepping around to his other side and sliding an arm around him. "Then go ahead and pretend I'm flirting with you, because I'm not gonna let you fall on your face out here."

Jack chuckled. "Alright then. You're as bad as Mac."

"I promise you, whatever it is you're thinking about, I'm probably much worse."

"See now, you gotta stop that," Jack said sagely.

"Stop what?" she asked, her tone already defensive.

"You do this thing where everything is a competition, where you have to be … I don't know, but it's annoying as hell … And trust me I know annoying," he teased to soften the criticism. "It's keeping you at a distance from everyone on the team. And that's not good. Nobody wants you showing weaknesses to the bad guys, Samantha. But we don't need you to pretend to be perfect 'round here."

She gave a thoughtful little nod. "I am glad to be part of your team."

"So, start actin' like part of it." She tensed and almost stepped away, but she stopped herself. Jack noticed. "You know what I mean, Cage. Stop being the weird neighbor kid. You get to be part of the family. But only if you actually want it."

Cage was going to respond but they'd gotten to the plane and Mac was standing there, leaning against it with his arms folded, one of the medics next to him, waiting patiently. "Jack, this is Seavers. He's gonna patch you up. _Now_."

Jack shook Cage off. "I'm really pretty good, man. It mostly got my vest and it's not even really bleedin' any- …"

"Nahri Saraj, Jack."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

Mac tipped him a sideways grin. "You mean I wouldn't dare _again_?"

"When were you guys in that part of Helmond?" Cage asked with genuine curiosity. Maybe exchanging war stories would be a good way to show Jack she really did want to be part of the team.

"Nope." Jack said loudly.

"I thought you liked telling stories about when you guys were in- …"

"C'mon, Seavers," Jack waved at the medic and headed inside the aircraft. "You can do your thing, so my _MOM_ can unbunch his undies and get a nap on the way home."

"So," Cage said with a grin and raised eyebrows. "What happened in Nahri Saraj?"

"Oh, no," Mac said, putting up his hands. "That's not my story to tell. Like maybe you tell Jack your thing, he'll tell you that. But it would have to be some sort of prisoner exchange type deal."

"C'mon, Mac, I'm great at keeping secrets."

Mac shook his head and one corner of Mac's mouth lifted as he headed in to see how Jack was doing. "So am I."


	8. Chapter 8

"Jack, no. You know you need to wear the sling." Mac felt like he was repeating himself a lot.

"But, Mac …"

"No."

Mac was almost laughing at how dejected Jack looked. He vaguely remembered his mom making him wear a jacket over his Halloween costume when he was around five, and he thought the look on his face was probably pretty much the one on Jack's now.

Unsurprisingly, Jack responded, "Mac, it's gonna wreck the costume. Scarecrow can't have a sling, man."

Bozer butted in, earning a very dirty look from Mac and Riley both. "It would kind of ruin the lines of the costume, Mac."

"We'll stick some hay in it or something. But you know you would never, and I mean ever, in all discovered and undiscovered dimensions, let me get away with not wearing a prescribed sling for ten minutes because it was 'going to ruin my outfit'. This isn't junior prom, geniuses."

"Mac, it Halloween. How 'bout I wear it on breaks between trick-or-treaters or somethin'?"

"Damnit, Jack. You know Matty's probably gonna stop by and she's gonna yell at you for not keeping it immobile and she's gonna rat you out and then the doc is gonna yell at you, and then guess who else they're gonna yell at? Oh, yeah, your partner. Who is supposed to have magical powers to get you to not be a jackass!"

"Well," Riley quipped, just trying to break the slight tension that was building. "You _are_ slated to be the undead Wiz tonight, Mac."

"Uuuuuugggghhhhhh," he growled. "You are the one voice of reason in all this! Don't you start siding with him to!"

"Guys, we can just shift a bit," Cage interrupted. They didn't exactly have all day now. "Jack can be Tin Man. There's still plenty of sizes listed. The costume on the website looks rigid enough to protect his shoulder for a couple of hours … I'll be Scarecrow if you two will stop fighting. It was a nickname in college half the time anyway," she admitted sheepishly, in a rare display of sharing something personal with the whole team.

Mac frowned. "What for … You …"

She actually flushed. "Bit on the thin side, always have been. And tall as well."

"Well," Jack said magnanimously, "You fit right in in LA. That's considered the ideal look 'round here."

"Yeah," Riley nodded. "You do look more like the model-actress type than a secret agent."

Cage's face creased. "Is that supposed to be a dig or a compliment?"

"Sure!" Riley said agreeably, grabbing Bozer by the elbow and leading him out to go pick up the last of the odds and ends for the party. "If you guys call the party store, we'll grab the rentals!" she called over her shoulder.

Cage watched them go. Then she looked back and forth between Mac and Jack, not quite sure if she should say anything. Then she decided they'd both more or less told her that her reserve was something of a problem in terms of fitting in, so she thought maybe she should work on it. "I get the feeling Riley doesn't care for me sometimes."

Jack gave a carefully one shouldered shrug, adjusting the sling he was resentfully wearing a little. "Me, too. And I'm more or less … well I'm sorta …"

"Her dad," Mac finished. "Not even sort of, Jack. Her actual dad sucks and you made a difference for her. As a kid and again when we got her out. Not to mention since. You're a hell of a dad." Mac's voice tightened unexpectedly.

"Hey, now," Jack began.

Mac went on. "So just take care of your damned self for your kid, alright?"

"Kids. Plural." Jack grinned. "Helicopter parent counts."

Mac closed his eyes for a second, but he smiled. "It counts twice. And you know how good at math I am."

"I do … And I will … Fine" Jack sighed. "Call the damned store. I'll be Tin Man, if it pleases His Wizardliness."

"It doesn't," Mac said as sternly as he could manage, cocking an eyebrow at the sling Jack was fidgeting with. "But I guess it will have to do. But you text Matty and Doc Anderson both and tell 'em what you're planning and maybe go get it looked at in advance of going without the sling because I swear to Albert Einstein, Jack, if I get chewed out for your Halloween shenanigans by either one of them, I'm going to find myself a new helicopter parent." He was joking, but only partially. Matty and Anderson both made Mac vaguely nervous when they got lecture-y.

Jack dug his phone out of his pocket awkwardly. Damned non-dominant hands being expected to be competent. "I'm on it, kid."

0-0-0

Mac often found Matty intimidating, even now. However, tonight, if she suddenly needed a kidney, he'd have considered offering to be a donor. She not only rescued them from Jack's Vicodin fueled generosity, but she ushered the rest of the team out of the house as soon as the trick-or-treaters started to taper off. She tempted Riley and Bozer with a special Zombie Call of Duty thing that was happening in the War Room at Phoenix, and she managed to convince Cage and Jill to go to karaoke with her on the promise of drinks on her.

By ten that evening, the doorbell had been silent for over a half an hour which Mac thought was a perfect opening. "Hey, man, I think it's probably over … I mean … I was thinking I could just put a bowl of candy out and if anyone shows up …"

"That's a cop out, man." Jack gave him a look, which he could read, even through the zombie make-up. "Kids hate the unattended bowl."

"Yeah," Mac nodded. Then he decided to say something that was both a little manipulative, and also completely honest. "But, I'm just kind of done, man. I mean … with people … with surprises. It's making me … edgy. Plus, you look like shit, even through all Bozer's greasepaint."

"You okay?" Jack asked, worried about his partner again for the first time in a while. Mac actually looked pale and wan at the moment, even disregarding the make-up.

Mac shrugged. "I … I guess … I mean … I wasn't … Never mind." He managed to avoid Jack's eye.

Mac went outside with a marker, a roll of duct tape, and a bowl of the leftover candy for any just in case older kids who showed up this late, putting, 'take what you're hungry for' on a little sign and taping it to the bowl before placing it in the broad circle of light that wouldn't set off his security system.

When Mac went back inside the lights were up, Jack was sitting at the table in just his jeans and a t-shirt, wiping at the paint on his face with a baby wipe from the package Mac had bought in anticipation of the night, and thankfully, wearing the sling that had resulted in the last minute costume shift between him and Cage.

Mac grinned at Jack and held out a hand for a baby wipe. It was the smell of Afghanistan to him. Care packages, mostly from either Bozer and Penny, or Jack's family and friends, always had some of them in them. Baby wipes and Chapstick. A soldier's best friend. More than chocolate even. He started to extract himself from the cape and waistcoat. Jack said, "Tell the truth; you doin' okay, Mac?"

"I … yeah." Mac didn't sound all that convincing, and he cursed his fatigue for it. Then he just threw the question back. "What about you? How's the shoulder?"

Jack swallowed. "You know how I hate admitting when you're right about stuff like this, but …"

"But you're definitely taking some pain pills and not driving home like a big stubborn Jackass?"

Jack smiled, "Pretty much."

"What did Anderson say this afternoon?"

"Probably not gonna need surgery …"

"But?" Mac prodded.

"But I need to maybe baby it a little. For a minute."

Mac grinned. Pretty much what he'd been saying. Jack had gotten lucky and because on contact with the tac vest, the slug hadn't penetrated very deeply. Still, it had penetrated some. And broken Jack's collar bone, well, fractured it, and caused all kinds of bruising. And because Jack had been a shit about anyone looking at it for hours, it had also gotten infected.

"Did you take your …"

"Yes, Mother!" Jack snapped. He was taking horse pill sized antibiotics. When they got back, on the damned medic's word, Anderson had kept him at Medical overnight on antibiotics; but the head nurse, Sullivan, had practically booted him the following morning, in a don't let the door hitcha kind of way.

Jack appreciated the freedom but thought she was vindictive by nature and meant it as a punishment. Mac said that might be true (and it sort of was – he had a hard time believing she was a civilian, but she was, just a real hard ass and a little terrifying) but he was the first to admit, as the guy who'd slept in the chair next to Jack's bed, that Jack had been an absolute nightmare and was really the world's worst baby when it came to anything remotely related to Medical.

In reality, Mac bought her, and the rest of the staff who had suffered Jack's overnight presence, coffee and bagels and promised if they talked Anderson into discharging Jack, he'd take care of their patient, and that Jack was generally a lot less awful to him … or at least, he was used to it.

And once he'd switched from shots to pills, and from a thin hospital gown to his own worn sweats, Jack would be a lot more compliant and a lot less surly anyway. She'd shaken her head and headed off, bagel in one hand, coffee in the other, vowing to get Jack Dalton the hell out of her infirmary and if it made the two of them happy enough to promise to try to stay away for a while she was all for it.

Mac said that was an easy promise to make. They tried all the time. He swore they did. She almost laughed. He could tell. He used it to his advantage to just go tell the floor nurse that Jack was going to be released and to get Jack clothes and get him ready to bail. He informed him that his discharge was conditional on his agreement to stay with him and Boze. It wasn't, but Jack was full of enough pain meds that he didn't even think to call him out.

Jack got up to get himself another water bottle, and the antibiotics he absolutely hadn't taken yet. Mac smiled and shook his head. "So … I'm gonna go shower off costume sweat and all this nasty make-up with the stinky soap Boze left. I put a bar of it in the guest bathroom if you want to …"

"Oh, hell yeah," Jack agreed.

Mac headed off toward his own room, throwing a casual, "I have all the bandages and stuff ready for when you're done at the counter," over his shoulder.

Jack nearly stomped off toward the guest room. "Since when did helicopter parenting get to be flipped? That's not in the rule books even a little," he muttered under his breath.

0-0-0

Mac had a good fire going when Jack shuffled outside. Bandaging things back up had made Jack a little nauseated so he went and stretched out for a few minutes, hoping it would pass. All he'd said was, he thought he might turn in early, but maybe not. Mac knew the look though.

Mac was sitting on the deck, close to the flames. He was staring into space, fidgeting with his watch.

Jack cleared his throat before he sat down. Mac glanced up, half-smiling, in appreciation for the warning of the other man's presence. As Jack settled on to the deck, Mac watched him adjust the sling out of the corner of his eye. "How you feeling, Jack?"

"Better," Jack answered honestly. "Smell of the disinfectant is worse than how it feels."

Mac nodded sympathetically. "Reeks like the infirmary for sure." He paused. "You take any pain meds?"

"Nah, think I'm good tonight."

Mac's smile grew into a full one that looked wholly genuine. "Good." He reached beside him into a cooler and Jack heard a familiar sound of glass and ice. Mac came out with two beers, got out his pocket knife to open them, and passed one to Jack.

Jack looked at his thoughtfully for a minute. The he held his bottle for a toast, "To ignoring curses."

Mac grinned. "Screw Cairo. Screw Bermuda … Oh, hey, what about Aokigahara Forest?"

Jack snickered, "Don't let's go gettin' carried away there, Padawan. But the middle one, yeah, we made it out alive, so, maybe at least a little bit of screw it."

They touched the necks of their bottles and then drank deeply. They were quiet for a while, watching the sky grow darker, the flames dance.

Finally, Mac spoke. "I'm not saying you didn't deserve it, but I'm sort of sorry I got back at you for Cousin George when you hat a bullet in your shoulder."

Jack chuckled softly. "Hey, I definitely did not deserve any such thing. But … I would like to point out that the bullet was technically mostly in that microfiber stuff and not my shoulder."

Mac shook his head. "And you complain when I put a fine point on things just to avoid really dealing with …"

"Only because it's what you do always."

"I'm not nearly as bad as you are when it comes to being injured," Mac asserted, knowing that wasn't even close to true, but it was a fiction they both liked to maintain.

"Okay, kid," Jack rolled his eyes dramatically. "Whatever you say."

Mac didn't rise to the bait, just took another swig of beer.

Jack looked out over the city. The lights from many emergency services vehicles, from police, to fire, to ambulances could be seen in the distance. Yup. That was Halloween. Damn it all, why did people have to ruin a perfectly nice little holiday by being colossal dumbasses?

Of course, Jack reasoned, you could really ask that question any old day of the year. But this night always did bring out its own special brand of crazy. Well, it was a night that was all about fear. These days anyway. And being afraid, well, it made people, do all manner of terrible things.

"So," he offered casually. "Cage is afraid of water, huh?"

Mac nearly spat out his beer. "How the hell do you know that?"

Jack gave a one shouldered shrug. "She aint' the only trained interrogator 'round here, no matter what she likes to pretend." Jack glanced at Mac and took another drink of his beer. "She has some tells. Swear to God I would love to get that woman to a poker table. I'd rob her blind." He grinned.

Instead of laughing like Jack was expecting Mac swore. "Now she's gonna think I told her you, Jack! And she's standoffish enough as it is!"

Jack frowned, a little annoyed, "Yeah, well, if it comes up I'll just tell her I beat it outta you as payback for you spillin' the beans about Nahri Saraj."

Mac put down his beer hard enough that what was left foamed out the neck. "I didn't tell her about that!"

For a second Jack was confused. "You didn't?"

"Of course not!" Mac was indignant. "That's our stuff. I would never …"

"But you brought it up …"

"To you! To get you to stop being an idiot! It's not my fault you were being an idiot in front of everybody else, too."

Jack chewed his lip. Mac was definitely telling the truth. "I thought you were gonna lay me out right there on next to that plane." Then he smiled fondly.

Mac's returning smile was definitely sheepish. "Yeah, well if you'd kept up …" He stopped, took a breath. "It wouldn't have been the first time either one of us was on the receiving end of our partner's ire for being determined to be dumber than we have a right to be."

"True. So, how did you know Cage is afraid of water?"

Mac shrugged. "She told when she was in the tank. She asked me not to tell anyone. It was kind of weird actually."

"What did you tell her when she asked?" Jack was curious how Mac handled that. Someone just doling out personal information if he wasn't asking them wasn't something Mac necessarily handled well. In fact, it was amusing to Jack that formal interrogation was fine for Mac but the field stuff often went right off the rails on him.

"Just that I was afraid of heights. Everybody's afraid of something."

"You give her my list?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Like being buried alive, needles, hairless cats, the entire country of Egypt, stepping on a crack in the sidewalk, walking under ladders …"

"You know what, now you're just bein' mean."

"Maybe a little," Mac grinned.

"You can knock it off. I already know I'm a chicken."

Mac rolled his eyes. "Because the things you're afraid of so often keep you from doing … everything."

Jack made an almost embarrassed face. "So, you don't think I'm some big farm foul? But you pick on me all the time!"

"And you pick on me. It's kind of our thing," Mac reminded him, and Jack nodded, albeit a little reluctantly.

"Can't let bein' afraid stop us I guess, not doin' what we do, anyway," Jack acknowledged.

Seemingly randomly, Mac said, "I read _The Wizard of Oz_ this afternoon while you and Boze were doing your candy apple thing."

"The whole thing?"

Mac nodded. "It's just a children's book. It's didn't take that long. I was trying to get into the spirit of the group costume."

"Alright. You chew books up and spit 'em out. I'm used to that by now. So?"

"I found a relevant bit of … Never mind." Mac started staring off into the flames again.

"What did you find?" Jack prompted.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"You're giving me the look Cage gives me when she says mansplaining or Matty gives me when she tells me to get to the point. I don't need you doing the look, too."

Jack wished Mac was sitting on his other side because that was the kid needed an awkward hug expression if ever he saw one. "I think that's just everybody's how the hell do we know somebody this much smarter than is face, bud."

Mac met his eye for a second and smiled up through his tousled hair now hanging in his face. "Alright, it just said, 'There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. True courage is facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty.' It made me think of you."

Jack noticed Mac was playing absently with his watch again. That explain him feeling a little sentimental. "That's a real nice one. But I think that was supposed to be for the Cowardly Lion. And I was the Tin Man, see. I'm gonna have silver paint comin' outta my ears until Christmas."

Mac laughed lightly. "Now you're getting picky about book quotes? Are you sure you didn't take pain pills and then mix them with that beer?"

This time Jack laughed. "Positive. Gimme some Tin Man. C'mon. Dazzle me with that ginormous brain o'yours."

Mac thought for a minute, "How about, 'You people with hearts have something to guide you, and need never do wrong.'? That sums you up, or at least it sums up who you try to be pretty nicely."

"Stop now, I'm gonna blush," Jack grinned. Mac just shook his head. Jack could see some of the tension of the day, the tension of worrying over Jack more than he needed to be finally slipping off Mac's shoulder's now that his mind was occupied with the mundane task of simple recall, so he decided to keep pushing. "What about the Wiz himself? Give me a good quote that goes with you and your costume tonight."

Mac shrugged. "There's nothing really good about the Wizard. He's kind of a tool."

"Nonsense. You're not even trying."

Mac thought for a minute. Jack had his dog with a bone face on. "Sorry, man. I got nothing."

Jack frowned at him. "Hmmm, 'A heart isn't measured by how much you love but how much you're loved by others'… Something like that."

"That was about the Tin Man, Jack."

"But the Wizard said it," Jack countered stubbornly.

Mac laughed again. "How do you even know that?"

"Hey, I can read books too, smart ass."

Mac raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, though."

Jack grinned. "My dad used to read me that book all the time. My sister and I went through a real phase for a while. He did goofy voices for all the characters. Even Dorothy."

"Sounds like a really nice memory," Mac said quietly

"It is." Damn it all to hell anyway. Mac's eyes had grown distant again. "Hey. Mac. Look at me, kid."

Mac didn't at first. Then Jack said his name again and he knew there was no getting out of it. "Yeah?"

"We're gonna get you one of those too you know."

Mac gave a wry smirk, and attempting to avoid having a real moment now, he started to get up. "A heart?"

Jack reached out with his good hand and grabbed the pocket of Mac's hoodie to keep him from taking off. "A good memory with your dad."

Mac gave him a very sad smile that made Jack almost regret mentioning his father. Almost. Then Mac got to his feet and offered Jack a hand up. "I'm not even sure that's possible Jack."

"Sure, it is kid. We're gonna get you at least one. We're at least going to get him to explain himself."

Mac still looked very serious. "That would be good I think." He paused. "Let's just go inside and watch TV until we pass out on the couches, huh?"

"Whatever you want, kid." Jack slung his good arm around Mac. His expression turned slightly mischievous. "And if he's a jerk, I'll punch him in the face for you. So, either way, you'll get a good memory out of it. Perks of having a helicopter parent."

Mac shook his head. "Alright Porkchop, don't go planning on beating up on anybody until you get to ditch the sling and you can move without me know where all your bruises are frim falling fifty feet."

"You sure I can't talk you in to Airwolf or … I don't know … Even just Chop or Whirly or something?"

Mac smirked. He could use this to his advantage. As they settled onto their respective couched and he aimed the remote at the TV, he cast a speculative look at his partner. "Tell you what, I'll rescind the nickname for a helicopter related appellation of your choosing _if_ …"

He let it hand in the air for a minute.

"Yeah?" Jack prompted. He wanted to nip Porkchop in the bud before it started making rounds at the office via Riley or Bozer.

"If I don't have to remind you about your sling again."

"All weekend?" Jack whined.

Mac grinned. Easy money, so to speak. "Until the doc says it can come off."

He waited a beat.

"Porkchop."


End file.
